The Player (Chicago Bratva #8) Read Online Renee Rose

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Erotic, Mafia, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Chicago Bratva Series by Renee Rose
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Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
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The fact that all three of us are pretty laid back and unambitious is one of the reasons our band sort of became Story’s when we asked her to join.

She’s big sister to all of us. Well, Lake used to wish she was more to him, but now that she’s with Oleg, his little crush is over.

I arrange a chair for her to sit on and drop a kiss on the top of her head.

“Let me see your phone.”

I hand it over without asking why.

“Is it okay if I go live on Tiktok again? I think your fans would love to see what a rehearsal looks like.”

Story and Oleg walk in. “God, no, we’re a mess in rehearsal,” my sister says. Her hulking fiance takes a seat in the corner opposite the one Nadia took and folds his arms across his chest, looking like her bodyguard, even though she’s in the safest building in Chicago, considering the security they have on this place.

Nadia flushes, but defends her idea. “You can be a mess on Tiktok. That’s what it’s all about. The real you. That’s what people want.”

“I’m down,” I say. Honestly, if Nadia said she thought we should skydive off the top of the building, I would say yes just to make her happy. Whatever she wants.

Fortunately, my sister isn’t shy. She makes a great lead singer because she will prance around stage in her fishnets, combat boots, and short shorts and be totally comfortable with whatever reaction she gets. Honestly, having Oleg as a grounding force is the best thing that could’ve happened to her because she could be as flighty as me, and I sometimes worried about someone screwing with her.

She shrugs. “Okay, I’m down, too. Just turn it off if we look like total fuck-ups, okay?”

“Okay,” Nadia agrees although I’m pretty sure she plans to let it run, regardless of what happens.

She turns my phone on and props it on her knee. “Introduce yourself,” she says in her beautiful, thick accent.

I shove my face up close to the screen. “Hey, I’m Flynn Taylor, and we are the Storytellers. It’s our weekly rehearsal, so lower your expectations–this is where we just kind of fuck around to figure shit out.” I grin and wink and back up. “You guys want to introduce yourselves??” I ask my bandmates.

Story’s at the whiteboard writing down a playlist, so Lake comes over to introduce himself then Ty. When Story’s done, she skips the intro, but goes to her stool in the center and waves. “I’m Story Taylor, and no, we’re not married.” She points between us. “I’m Flynn’s big sister.”

“Except I’m the big one.” I look up from tuning my electric guitar to smirk.

“Yes, he’s been bigger than me since he was thirteen–the big jerk.” To us, she mutters, “Counting in. Five, six-five, six, seven, eight.”

Ty starts the drum beat, and I add in on our newest original song, written by Story.

We finish and she gives us a few notes, then we run it again. We play three more songs and take a break.

I’ve been dying to try the new song I wrote today on the electric guitar, so while they drink their water and check their phones, I start up.

“Is that new?” Story asks.

“Yeah. It’s for Nadia.” I glance her way, and my breath whooshes from my chest when I catch the look she gives me in return.

She positively glows. Her smile doesn’t smolder, and it isn’t sunny–but it’s somewhere in between. Her brown eyes are warm and the gold and copper lights in her hair seem to match her energy. She looks like a goddess sitting there, just blessing us with her angelic presence.

I start over, trying out the words.

Chained in the dark with the devil

He tried to eat you whole

You think you might need to settle

I know you’ll have it all.

I give it a low grungy sound with my voice–reminiscent of Kurt Cobain. Ty trots to the drum set and joins with a slow beat. Story freezes, watching me with wide eyes, like she’s transfixed, then she grabs her guitar and starts a punk riff.

I repeat the first stanza now that I have the other instruments then cut to the bridge. I don’t have words for this part yet, but it’s the melody Nadia inspired last night.

“That’s good,” Story encourages when I fumble. “Keep going.”

Lake picks up the bass and joins us.

I screw around with it a little more. “Now it goes back to the beginning.” I sing the next lines.

I go back to the bridge, then to the hook.

“I don’t know the words right here, yeah” I sing, and Ty and Lake laugh over the music.

I’m wrapped up in the collaborative creation process–the magic that happens when we’re all vibing together to make a song. When I look back at Nadia, I see she has tears streaming down her face. Not sad tears–at least I don’t think so. Her expression is serene as she listens, but her face is wet.



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